


New Jeans

by jesslikeschub



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Body Image, Body Worship, Chubby Stiles, Fluff, M/M, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, and hes so sweet, but thats not really the main plot, cause hes tubby and its great, derek is wonderful, everyone is awkward, just a bit though, stiles is a little insecure, stiles works at a bakery, there is no main plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-21 08:44:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10681773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesslikeschub/pseuds/jesslikeschub
Summary: Stiles is a broke college student who likes to party and eat garbage. So he's getting chubby. And there's a certain stud of a lacrosse player who doesn't mind a bit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd, so please bear with me on any spelling/grammar issues.
> 
> Chubby Stiles who's just getting chubbier is my life blood. He's beautiful, perfect, and a little bashful. So if you're into that, welcome.
> 
> If you're not, I'm not sure why you're here, and you probably shouldn't read this.

When Stiles woke up, he was extremely hungover.

After briefly glancing around the room with tired, sore eyes, he was surprised to see Scott, his freshman year roommate, wasn't in his bed, seeing as he had drank every bit as much as Stiles had last night. He was surprised, that is, until he heard Scott retching from the bathroom. A cocky grin spread across Stiles' face. Scott always was such a light weight, and he had mistakenly challenged Stiles to a drinking contest. Despite being an athlete who must've had about 30 pounds of sheer muscle and a couple inches over Stiles, Scott lost.

It was one of the few things Stiles could beat Scott in, so he called out to him, "Doin' alright in there, Scotty?" He immediately regretted speaking so loudly as his head thumped in protest, and his stomach lurched.

...okay, maybe he wasn't as much of a badass as he thought. But hey, he still won.

Scott answered with another dry heave and a quiet groan.

Stiles slowly sat up, careful not to move too quickly, and rummaged around his bedside table for some ibuprofen. He took a dose quickly and forced himself to follow it down with a big gulp of water. Scott came lumbering out of the bathroom and Stiles handed him some pills.

"Thanks, man," Scott said quietly before walking across the room to his bed and covering himself in his blankets.

"I spent the last of my money on those last bottles of tequila last night, man. I'm spent, there's literally $7 left in my back account right now," Scott complained quietly from under his covers.

"Yeah, well my drunk ass bought everyone at the party pizza last night. I'll be lucky if I have $7 to my name."

Scott groaned, "God, we're so fucking broke. We need to get jobs."

Stiles groaned in response. He knew it was true, he just wanted to put off working as long as possible. He made it through fall semester on what he had saved up in high school, and now that he had blown it all on beer and junk food, it was finally time to job hunt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scott was able to find a job at a local vet. His experience with Deaton back in Beacon Hills, paired with a shining recommendation from Deaton, easily secured him a decent paying job, even if it was mostly bathing pets and cleaning cages.

Stiles on the other had was having a hard time finding something that paid decently. Sure there were retail jobs and fast food joints, but they never paid above minimum wage, and if Stiles was honest, if he wanted to keep living and partying the way he had been, he needed to make more than minimum wage.

He was currently working on homework with a big bag of chips that he had just opened in his dorm. He reached in to take another chip and found the bag empty.

That certainly couldn't be right. He had seriously _just_ opened it. He stood to get off his bed and throw the bag away, and he brushed the fallen chips off his shirt, and he grimaced as his hand bumped his swollen belly.

It's not like he was stupid, he knew he had put on weight. With him not exercising at all and eating and drinking shit constantly, how could he not have put on weight? He hadn't weighed himself or anything, and he hadn't worn anything but sweats in weeks, but he would've guessed he put on every bit of the freshman fifteen. 

It was mid January so he had put on fifteen pounds in four months. _That's not too bad right?_

He glanced at himself in the dorm's mirror. His t-shirt clung to his rounded tummy and was currently stuffed with chips. Yeah, that's why he looked so big, he had just eaten a lot. But then he noticed his softening jawline and whatever muscle definition he had in his arms from high school lacrosse was gone. He couldn't quite tell through his sweatpants what was going on with his thighs and ass, but he knew that they were getting thicker lately as well, just by how they felt when he walked.

_Fuck, it's definitely more than fifteen pounds. Probably more like 20. Maybe 25. No, no, definitely not 25._

He shucked off his tight t-shirt (pointedly avoiding looking in the mirror shirtless) and replaced it with one that was once very loose on him and now fit fine and sat back down to resume his homework, vowing on eating less junk and drinking lite beer. Scott walked in shortly after, returning from his date with his new girlfriend, Allison. He tossed a business card at Stiles and it landed next to him on his bed.

"What's this?"

"I took Allison to that new bakery a little off campus today, the one we walked past once and you almost died because you said their cupcakes looked fantastic? Anyways, they're hiring. I talked to a lady for you, she said they're paying pretty well."

A bakery, fuck. Of course he remembered those cupcakes, Stiles wanted to go in but he and Scott were already running late for class, and Scott practically dragged him away from the window. He didn't forgive Scott until he bought Stiles pizza that night.

After another fleeting thought about what his might do to his waistline, he said, "I'll call them tomorrow, thanks man."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles called the bakery in the morning, and the lady who owned the bakery asked if Stiles could come in that evening. Despite his earlier concerns, the promise of more than $8.50 an hour made him practically giddy. 

Evening rolled around and Stiles realized that he was going to have to change into clothes other than sweats. He took a moment to be thankful that Scott had lacrosse practice and wasn't in the room, and he began rummaging through his drawers.

The place sounded pretty chill, so Stiles figured he could get by if he wore a nice pair of jeans and maybe a button-up.

He eyed his stomach warily as he pulled out a pair of dark jeans that were a tad big on his (formerly) slim frame, nothing that a belt couldn't fix.

Things went fine until he got about to mid-thigh. He wiggled a bit, confirming begrudgingly that yes, his thighs and ass have certainly gotten bigger. He jumped up and down a couple times, noticing with a cringe that his belly jiggled a bit with the sudden movements, but he got the jeans up his ass. The flaps hung open tauntingly wide to accommodate the girth of his pudgy stomach.

Stiles sucked in and pulled the flaps as tight as he could. It was close, very close, but he couldn't quite get the button through the hole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered to himself, trying to come up with a plan b. He decided to try laying down. Again, he sucked in as hard as he could and tugged the flaps together. This time, he found success (barely).

He sat up, and, "Oh god," Stiles wheezed, feeling how tight the jeans were squeezing him while sitting. He lumbered ungracefully off his bed, tight jeans restricting his movements a bit. He grabbed the button up that was once his largest and began doing up the buttons. He was able to get it buttoned over his stomach, but the last few buttons of the shirt were visibly straining, creating little holes where the plump flesh of Stiles' belly was visible.

Stiles looked in the mirror, and actually, he didn't look that bad. His clothes were definitely, visibly, tight, but not abhorrently so. If you didn't know Stiles was once a slim, scrawny little lacrosse player, you probably wouldn't look twice at the college student with a bit of a gut.

Stiles was about to leave when Scott walked into the room, a look of surprise on his face when he saw Stiles. More specifically, when he saw and stared at Stiles' middle. Scott was so oblivious sometimes, that he probably hadn't noticed Stiles' weight until it was right out in front of his face.

Scott realized he was staring, and said "Uh..."

Whatever was about to come out of Scott's not-so-eloquent mouth, Stiles didn't want to hear.

"Shut-up, you!" Stiles said, a joking smile on his face, trying to make it clear that he didn't want this to be a big deal.

Scott thankfully took the hint and brushed off the awkward encounter with a chuckle and just said, "Good luck with your interview!"

Stiles got the job, and bought new pants immediately after that news.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About two months into his new job, Stiles was loving it.

He had just gotten to work and was putting on his apron over his new jeans and white t-shirt. The apron left very little to the imagination with the way it hugged Stiles' rounded stomach, but it wasn't so bad. For the most part he did dishes, cleaned tables and floors, and occasionally his boss would let him help with the actual cooking. With what he was getting paid for easy work, she could've asked him to dress up like a monkey and he would've done it.

Anything that didn't sell that day or didn't turn out right was fair game for anyone who worked there to eat. And, well. Stiles couldn't help but take advantage.

There was a table in the kitchen called the 'reject table' of old or messed up pastries. This morning, before official opening, there was a big tray of lemon bars. Stiles plucked one up and began eating it, and boy was it fantastic. He couldn't help but moan a little.

"Enjoying yourself?" Mrs. Dunar, the sweet, plump middle aged woman who was his boss, asked.

Stiles jumped and turned around, he hadn't even seen her in the kitchen because he had been to fixated on the sweets. She was smiling a little knowingly and mischievously at him.

His mouth was still completely full, so he nodded vigorously, then swallowed and said, "Hell yeah."

She giggled (he had found out quickly that flattery was the way to her heart), and said, "Watch your language Mr. Stilinski."

"So what's wrong with these? Taste fine to me"

She made a bit of a face. "Lemon bars are supposed to be a bit more tart. Those are too sweet. Glad you like them, though. Help yourself, it's just you and me until the afternoon."

Stiles nodded again, mouth already full with his second lemon bar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His shift was almost over when he noticed a two people wearing his school's jersey coming towards the bakery. He recognized immediately that they were lacrosse jerseys. It must be Scott and a friend, who he had probably met at some party or another. 

Stiles quickly finished another lemon bar he was holding as they walked into the store. Sure enough it was Scott...and Derek fucking Hale.

Stiles nearly spit out the food in his mouth before forcing himself to swallow quickly, so he could greet them and hopefully not be too awkward about it.

God damn Scott, he fucking knew what a crush Stiles had on Derek. Stiles would come to lacrosse practices under the guise of supporting Scott, but it was really to see if Derek would take his shirt off (which he did, often). And Scott knew that full well. 

He always pestered Stiles to say something to Derek, and that was even before Stiles had put on god knows how much weight. And now here he was, bringing Derek to see Stiles at work after Stiles had eaten half a tray of lemon bars with his full belly on display.

"Hey Stiles!" Scott greeting, a shit eating grin spreading across his face upon seeing the certain panic on Stiles'.

"Hey guys, how was practice?" Stiles said, trying to seem nonchalant.

"It was incredible, you should've seen Derek. Although, I suppose you do. Pretty often, actually," Scott said, and Stiles was screaming internally.

Just in time to save anyone from having to respond from that awkward comment, Scott's phone rang.

"It's Allison. Hey, I'll be right back guys," he said, and he strolled right out of the bakery.

"So, uh, what's good here?" Derek said, putting his hands in his pockets.

 _Your dick._ "Just about everything. If you're into chocolate, we have salted caramel and chocolate cookies that are incredible, but if you're into fruity stuff, we have these raspberry tarts that are really good." God, his voice was quivering, it was so fucking obvious that he was nervous.

Derek smiled a little. "I'm into fruity stuff," _God help me, holy shit_ "I'll try one of those tarts."

Stiles tried to do one of those casual chuckle things, but it came out some sort of weird, loud, barking laugh. Stiles cleared his throat, and hurried away to pluck up a raspberry tart from the display and came back to hand it to Derek, who was still smiling like Stiles was amusing him. Derek took a bite and made a sound of approval.

"I usually don't like sweets too much, but this is really good," Derek said.

"Right? The lady here who makes all this stuff is a wizard, it's incredible"

Derek nodded in agreement and pulled out his wallet. "So how much do I owe you?"

"Three bucks for the tart."

Derek handed him a ten, and Stiles went to make change, but Derek waved for him to stop.

"Keep it," he looked around a little. "This place is really cute," he commented.

"Just like you," Stiles said, and _holy shit I said that out loud I did NOT mean to say that out loud oh god, please strike me down now so I don't have to-_

Derek laughed, a hearty, rich sound that echoed through the bakery. He stopped and looked at Stiles (who was certainly still bright red) for a second before asking, "Do you want to hang out sometime?"

"Wha-"

"You seem really cool, and I'd like to hang out sometime if you want to, too," Derek said, thankfully seeming even a little nervous for the first time.

"Uh...I mean, fuck yeah-"

"Language!" Mrs. Dunar yelled from the kitchen, and Stiles felt his face flush again.

Derek, thankfully, seemed a little red as well, and laughed. "Okay cool. Hey. here's my number," Derek said, grabbing a napkin and a pen from the counter. "You can call or text me, or..whatever."

Stiles took the napkin reverently, like he was being handed a million dollars or some holy artifact.

"Okay," Stiles said, and somehow that was all he was able to muster for speech.

"Cool," Derek said, a little awkwardly as well.

Stiles only then realized that Scott hadn't come back in yet, and he looked towards the front door and windows. Scott was standing outside with his face pressed up against the window, obviously watching their exchange.

"Scott!" Stiles yelled, outraged, and Derek blushed a shade deeper.

Scott just smiled mischievously, and poked his head in the front door and said, "You ready to go, Derek?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I'm coming," Derek said, still looking at Stiles. Scott nodded and went back outside to wait.

Stiles looked back at Derek and oh god, he's staring at Stiles' stomach.

_This is it, this is where he decides, 'never mind, I don't want to hang out with a fat fuck because I'm a living god and-'_

"Hey, Stiles?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"You're pretty cute, too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles didn't even have a chance to text Derek, because the next day, Derek waved him down on campus as Stiles was walking back from class. 

"So, I'm thinking- I mean, I'd like to take you out to dinner maybe this weekend if that's cool and if you have time-"

"Yes, definitely," Stiles says embarrassingly fast.

That beautiful, shining grin comes across Derek's face as he says, "Okay, cool. I can, um, pick you up Saturday at like 7?"

And so their plans were made and Stiles had a lump the size of Texas in his throat. So when he got back to his room, he had to settle that lump by profusely stress eating brownies that Mrs. Dunar had let him take home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday evening rolled around and Stiles was getting dressed for his date with Derek Hale, holy shit.

His jeans were getting snug again, he noticed with a scowl. Perfect timing to go on a date with literally the hottest creature on the planet.

He asked Derek how nice he needed to look, and Derek just said an ambiguous "not very," in return, so Stiles was wearing a signature t-shirt (that was getting a bit to tight for comfort) and a flannel (just don't ask him to button it, okay). 

He glanced at himself in the mirror, and man, he really was starting to get pretty chubby. He rested a hand on the curve of his tummy with a scowl, and shook his hand a little. His stomach jiggled from the movement, and the movement of his stomach made the bottom of his snug shirt ride up a little, revealing a sliver of pale tummy flesh. He flushed and quickly pulled his shirt down to cover the pudge of his middle. His flannel, thankfully, hid how wide he was getting. With the flannel removed, he could see clearly through his tight t-shirt how his love handles poured out of the tops of his jeans, wiggling and jiggling just as much as his belly. He'd have to make a point to keep his flannel in place.

Stiles was really developing a nasty habit of stress eating, because even though he had just been looking at how fat he was getting and he was about to go out for dinner, but he couldn't help shoving two apple danishes into his mouth before Derek texted to tell him he was here.

Stiles made his way down and got into Derek's car.

"So, uh...kind of a change of plans... _oh god he finally figured out I'm fat and he doesn't want to go out anymore._ "I planned to take you to this really good Mexican place, but they're renovating their building and I didn't know that until I called to make reservations today."

"Oh-"

"I'm really sorry I didn't call them sooner and it's a Saturday night and everywhere will be packed so I was thinking maybe I could just make us dinner at my place? I know it's not as good, or it's weird, or-"

Stiles couldn't believe that Derek Hale, who was notorious for being quiet and stoic, was rambling a bit. Stiles cut him off, "That sounds great," _or horribly nerve wracking, but hey, what's the difference right?_

"Okay, cool," Derek said, visibly relieved.

They made casual conversation on the car ride over, which, somehow, wasn't as awkward as Stiles was fearing it would be. When they got to Derek's apartment, he immediately began to turn on the stove and pull out ingredients.

"Here, you can sit at the table. I'm not much of a cook, is Italian okay? Do you want something to drink, beer or something?"

"Yes and yes," Stiles said as he looked around his apartment. It was no secret that Derek came from money, and that was especially obvious from how nice and spacious his apartment was for a college student, even if Derek was a junior.

Derek handed him a beer. He was dressed in plain, dark jeans that emphasized his narrow waist and a long sleeved black shirt that wasn't particularly special, save for the fact that it was tight enough to show just how ripped Derek was. So basically he looked incredible without even trying, which was typical.

They made pleasant conversation while Derek cooked. Really pleasant, actually. In no time they were teasing and bantering a little with each other, which made Stiles' heart swell more than he would've thought possible. Stiles offered a few times to help cook, which was always refused, with Derek insisting that he had been the one to ask Stiles out so he has to cook.

"Is that why you couldn't even wait a day for me to text you before asking me out? You wanted to be in charge of the first date?"

"Maybe," Derek said, winking.

Dinner was extravagant. Derek was an absolute liar about not being a good cook. He watched Derek make dinner rolls, for fucks sake. Between said rolls, a huge pan of lasagna (of which Stiles ate a frankly embarrassing portion), and homemade tiramisu for dessert, Stiles didn't realize how full he was until he finally mustered the restraint to put his fork down.

God, when did he become such a pig? If Derek had any doubts about just how embarrassingly overindulgent Stiles was, he certainly wouldn't anymore. He shifted a little in his seat, his waistband cutting embarrassingly into his fleshy sides and middle. His graphic t-shirt was stretched over his drum of a stomach, and Stiles had to make a conscious effort to keep it pulled down over his stomach. He felt himself flush and the obvious evidence of his indulgence.

"That was so fucking good, Der," Stiles said, trying to take his own mind off of his bloated figure, but realizing that he just called Derek by a pet name.

Derek nodded in humble agreement, and flushed a little at the name. "Yeah, it wasn't too bad. Guess it wasn't a bad alternative after all."

"Shit, man, I think I prefer this. This was really incredible," Stiles hesitated before adding, "I definitely ate a lot of it," Stiles watched Derek to gauge his reaction.

Derek just smiled, clearly pleased that Stiles had enjoyed the meal and seemingly unperturbed that Stiles is well on his way to being fat.

After a moment of silence, Derek said, "So um, if you want I can take you home. Or we can hang out here if you want? We don't have to do anything," Derek quickly added, after seeing Stiles' eyebrows raise.

Stiles wanted so badly to do something if truth was told, but he didn't want to scare Derek off looking so bloated. So he'd settle for just hanging out. For now.

"Yeah that's fine. We can watch a movie or something?" Stiles suggested.

They picked out some comedy that neither of them were really watching, they were more focused on how their thighs were touching as they were sitting right next to each other.

That wasn't nearly enough for Stiles, who was, quite frankly, really thirsty because it had been quite a while since he had a romantic partner. He shifted in his seat and re-positioned himself to lay his head on Derek's shoulder.

Derek seemed surprised for a second before he wrapped his arm around Stiles' shoulder in response. Stiles hummed contentedly at the embrace.

Until Derek's hand dropped to his waist. The way Stiles' body was positioned formed a roll that started just above his love handle and the rest of his side, that continued down most of his belly and back. And that's exactly where Derek rested his hand. Stiles stiffened a bit, waiting to see if Derek would react.

He didn't. Instead, he began to rub circles through Stiles' shirt into the not-so-small love handle at his side. Stiles flushed with embarrassment, but he also almost moaned because it felt so good.

Stiles looked up at Derek and he turned to make eye contact with Stiles, and, fuck it, Stiles couldn't help it any longer. He pulled Derek's face into his and kissed him.

Derek reciprocated the kiss immediately. They fell into each other as Derek pushed Stiles so he was laying on his back and Derek was on top of him. Stiles shoved the hem of Derek's shirt up saying, "Off, get this shit off," Derek laughed that deep, throaty chuckle and pulled his shirt over his head. It's not like Stiles hasn't seen Derek shirtless before, that's the entire reason he attended lacrosse practices often. But seeing it so clearly, right in front of him; well, it was basically a religious experience. He ran a reverent hand down Derek's torso, appreciating the sculpted, rock hard muscles that decorated his torso. Stiles looked up to make eye contact with Derek, who was grinning confidently. Derek leaned down and began sucking into what was exposed of Stiles' collarbones through the neckline of his shirt.

Stiles was embarrassingly, almost instantly hard. Derek seemed to notice that instantly too, and palmed at Stiles' crotch, and Stiles let out a gasp.

Then Derek pulled away.

"Shit, Stiles, I'm sorry, I told you we don't have to do anything, and I mean it, I really do."

"What? No, Derek, no, please fuck me."

"Wha- are you sure? You didn't seem sure after dinner. I just don't want you to-"

"God Derek, no, please just fuck me," Stiles whimpered trying to pull his shoulders back down onto him. It was no use really, it was like trying to move a boulder.

Derek growled, a primal, extremely sexy sound. He scooped Stiles up and Stiles let out an undignified "eep" of surprise as he was carried off to Derek's bedroom. He had a moment to realize just how strong Derek was, carrying Stiles like it was no big deal at all, especially with Stiles' added weight.

Once Derek put Stiles onto his gently onto bed, he climbed over him once again and started taking his shirt off. Stiles panicked a little and tried to suck in his gut but it really wasn't much use with how stuffed he still was from dinner. The comparison of Derek's abs, tanned and toned from lacrosse, and Stiles' belly, pale and bloated and huge from dinner and every other indulgence, was jarring to Stiles. Stiles felt the embarrassment of inadequacy rising, and he started to move his hands from being tangled in Derek's hair to shield his torso, when Derek began to pepper kisses down Stiles newly bare chest and down his plump stomach and Stiles cringed.

But Derek didn't say a word. Instead, he just sucked marks into his bloated stomach just like he did for his collarbone, and Stiles didn't want to like it but oh god he fucking loved it. His newly chubby stomach was way more sensitive than it ever had been before and the sensation of Derek's soft lips with his rough facial hair was almost too much.

Stiles was brought back to reality a bit when Derek struggled for a second to undo Stiles' pants because they were that fucking tight and he felt himself flush again.

But Derek got the jeans and his boxers down and Stiles' needy dick was finally released and again, all was forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Afterwards, Derek and Stiles snuggled in a sticky heap. Stiles was laying on Derek's chest and Derek had one strong arm wrapped around his back, holding him close, and another was palming Stiles' soft hair.

"We should clean up," Derek said quietly. Stiles just groaned unhappily in response. Derek chuckled and looked at the top of Stiles' head indulgently. "We're gonna regret it in the morning," Derek said.

"My favorite kind of activities involve regretting them in the morning," Stiles said, snuggling closer into his chest.

They sat in content silence for a minute before Stiles said, "I only come to lacrosse practices to see if you'll take your shirt off," he admitted quietly.

Derek laughed at that. "Really?"

"Yeah."

Derek was quiet for a minute before responding, "I only take it off if I see you in the stands."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious."

Stiles didn't say anything else, just snuggled as close to Derek as possible. After a while, Derek stopped running his fingers through his hair. Stiles didn't want to seem needy or attention-deprived, but he really wanted Derek to not stop.

Stiles rolled over in Derek's bed, only to see that he was already fast asleep. Stiles smiled lovingly at his sleeping form that was so beautiful, it practically hurt Stiles. He grabbed his phone from where his pants had been discarded. He sent Scott a quick text, "Hey, I'm not gonna be home tonight, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Fucking on the first date? You little slut."

Stiles smiled and sent back a quick, "You're a dick," before snuggling back up to Derek, who, even in his sleep, moved to hold Stiles tight.

Stiles bought another size up in pants the next day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the summer, Stiles had promised that he'd get back into shape. Derek, bless him, really didn't seem to care either way even though he told Derek he was gonna fit back into the jeans he wore when he first went to college. Derek just said, "Okay, babe," and smiled supportively while he continued to rub his stomach as they were cuddled on the couch. But there weren't really parties at Beacon Hills so he didn't have an excuse to drink a ton of calories and he was gonna cut the junk food out. He was confident.

Come late May, he and Derek had really only been dating for three months, but it was the happiest three months of his entire life by far. He felt so connected to Derek like no one he's ever been with before. They just got each other.

But Derek was visiting family in Mexico over the summer, which meant they wouldn't see each other again until school started back up.

Allison's hometown was just a couple towns over from Beacon Hills, so her and Scott hung out all the time. They usually invited Stiles, which was nice and sometimes he joined them, but sometimes it just made him sad to see them together when he was so far from Derek. They were able to face time and Skype, but it just wasn't the same. And Stiles missed him.

So apparently, in addition to stress eating and just being gluttonous in general, he also now sad-ate.

Whenever he thought about Derek and how much he missed him (and the amazing meals he would make him on what became a weekly basis) he just felt _hungry_ , which was honestly a lot better than feeling sad. So he indulged himself. A lot.

At first, he figured if he was gonna eat a lot he should try to eat healthy food. He had enough saved up from the bakery that he should be able to get through this summer with no problem. Until he discovered how expensive healthy food was.

He went to the grocery store one day and a bunch of organic bananas were $5. Are you joking? He could get five tacos from Taco Bell at that price!

So he didn't buy anything from the grocery store that day. And he went to Taco Bell instead.

And anything unhealthy that he brought into the house he'd have to eat ASAP so his dad wouldn't get a hold of it. So he was eating a lot, almost all of it was unhealthy food, and was eating it fast.

Which brought him to where he was now, on move in day for his sophomore year, absolutely unable to button the jeans he bought after his and Derek's first time. 

Honestly they didn't even come close. He had been living in basketball shorts and t-shirts (he had actually bought new of both because even his lounge-wear was tight _Jesus_ ). He bit the bullet and took a hesitant glance at himself in the mirror.

He was shirtless, his gut spreading the flaps of his jeans far apart. His face and cheeks were round, and it might just be official that he had a small double chin, his jawline had disappeared almost entirely. His chest was soft, and small mounds of fat had accumulated around his nipples that were visible in just about every shirt he wore. His arms were completely undefined, just thick and wobbly. Similar to his thighs that were getting straight up _thick_ and a little dimpled towards the tops of them. They were absolutely stuffed into the pants Stiles was currently trying to wear. His ass was enormous, and frankly, the jeans Stiles had on weren't containing all of it, and some spilled out the top.

But most generous was his stomach. Despite all the beer Stiles drinks, it was soft. And flabby. It pooled over the waistband of his unbuttoned jeans, sagging just enough to obscure the uncooperative button on his jeans completely. When he was standing, his love handles formed rolls on his sides that wrapped all the way around to create back rolls, too. When he sat, the roll formed all the way to his front too, separating the top of his belly from the bottom. Speaking of his bottom belly, it was starting to get kinda riddled with stretch marks. Starting from underneath the overhang of his belly, they stretched up almost to his belly button. And he had quite a few of them. He also had some on his love handles, where they were pooling over the sides. He tried once more in vain to button his jeans, watching as his stomach flab shifted as it was pushed out from the gap in between the flaps, making him look fatter than ever. He huffed and released his jeans, watching in horror as his belly flopped and wobbled from the motion before settling back into place.

"God. Dammit."

Stiles bought new jeans on his way back to campus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!! Next chapter will be out pretty soon. It's pretty much written, the work itself is just kinda long so I wanted to break it up. I'm also no good at smut, so forgive me that I kinda skipped over it here.
> 
> Stiles continues to get chubbier in the next one so stay tuned~
> 
> Don't forget to kudos and comment if you enjoyed! :3
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to everyone who read, kudos and commented on the first chapter! You guys are amazing and I hope you enjoy this concluding chapter, as well.
> 
> There's some slight porn in this bit, but not a lot because I'm trash at writing it. 
> 
> This is, again, unbeta'd, so please forgive any mistakes you find.
> 
> If you're not into chubby lovin', don't read~

Stiles went to Derek's apartment literally the second he was done unpacking, and he was riddled with excitement and nervousness. He really, honestly, couldn't fucking _wait_ to see Derek. He was sure Derek would've been able to tell just through the face times that Stiles' cheeks were getting fuller. He couldn't help but think that maybe this would finally be the time when Derek realized Stiles was officially getting fat. _Oh man, maybe I'm already officially fat_ , he thought, looking down at the belly that was contained by jeans that actually fit and a t-shirt he had bought recently. But even properly fitting clothes couldn't hide just how _large_ Stiles was getting lately.

He got to Derek's apartment and Derek opened the door to give Stiles a big bear hug before Stiles could even knock on the door.

Stiles felt his plush middle squish against Derek's rock hard abs and he felt himself flush, but he was more preoccupied with the strong arms wrapped around, holding Stiles like he was a lifeline. Stiles leaned into the embrace and keened quietly.

Derek took a step back and Stiles groaned unappreciatively. Derek took Stiles round face into his hands, looked into Stiles' eyes for a moment before kissing him, right in his apartment's hallway.

The kiss got heated quick, and when Stiles tried to take Derek's shirt off in the middle of the hallway, Derek chuckled deeply, and finally pulled Stiles into his apartment.

Sex with Derek was always incredible, but the neediness from both of them after waiting months made them both a little messy, sloppy, and and they were both a little quick. And fuck, it was _incredible._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had cleaned up and ordered some Chinese for dinner. 

And Stiles overate. He ate all the orange chicken that he got, all the egg rolls they got to split, and then he finished Derek's teriyaki chicken. Oh, and he was pretty sure he ate literally _all_ of the egg foo young that they had gotten to split, too. He couldn't even stop himself from eating all the fortune cookies. He was uncomfortably full. He was also a little disturbed by how much his appetite had increased over the summer.

His belly crested out in front of him, very visibly bloated. He didn't even need to touch his belly to know that the upper half of it is hard as a drum. He was grateful that they had eaten while watching TV on Derek's couch, because he how well he would've been able to get up and move otherwise.

Derek had finished eating a while ago, and he had just been resting his head on Stiles' shoulder while Stiles stuffed his face. Stiles threw the wrapper for the last fortune cookie on Derek's coffee table, and tried to shift on the couch to relieve the uncomfortable pressure building in his stomach. And, as if he hadn't embarrassed himself enough tonight, he let out an accidental burp.

To be fair, it was a little, quiet burp. Stiles was able to stifle it a little. But it was the fucking _principle_ of stuffing himself to the point where his stomach hardly has room for all the shit he just ate, while his supermodel boyfriend was sitting right next to him.

He flushed, and Derek looked up at him with a curious little smile. His hand dropped to Stiles' belly, and he said, "Ate too much?"

If possible, Stiles flushed deeper, and said, "Um, yeah, I guess," he hesitated a moment before continuing, "I seem to be doing quite a lot of that lately."

He anxiously waited for Derek to say something back, but he just gave a pensive hum before proceeding to give Stiles a belly rub. It's not the first time, he did it a couple times for Stiles when he was overfull and uncomfortable. They never failed to get him both embarrassed, but aroused at the same time. But he was so bloated, not to mention just straight up fatter than ever before. Derek's hand skillfully roamed over the tight upper part of Stiles' belly, gently working out the parts that were really tight.

It felt so good. But his anxiety was running too high today, and he finally asked the question that he had been wondering since the day he and Derek met.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

Derek looked up at Stiles questioningly, obviously not understanding.

Stiles couldn't believe he finally asked the question. But he did, and here they were, so might as well try to get an actual answer on why Derek doesn't mind Stiles' ever increasing waistline.

"How fat I am."

"You're not fat."

"Derek, you're literally having to rub my stomach because I ate so much I can't get up. And it's not the first time you've had to do this. How does it not bother you? Fucking look at you!"

"You can't get up?"

If possible, Stiles flushed deeper and said, "Well, I mean, no, I'm sure I could, but, I mean, that's not the point! Answer the question!"

"No, it doesn't bother me."

"Wha- how? I don't-"

"I love your body. I've never shied away from it, or hesitated to touch it. God, I fucking love your body," Derek said, continuing his belly rub, and he said, "I really thought I made that clear. I'm not a dick, Stiles. You obviously like to eat and you don't like exercise. Well, besides one," Derek said mischievously, winking at Stiles, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"So why would I ask you to change?" Derek continued.

"Cause I'm a pig."

"Pigs are _so_ cute."

"Ew."

"I like this, Stiles. I've dated people smaller than you and I've dated people bigger than you. Every body type has something to offer," Derek paused to give his lower belly, that was still soft and flabby despite all the food Stiles had stuffed into it, a good squeeze, getting plenty of fat in his hand, "Yours just happens to be one of my favorites."

"Der," Stiles whined.

"What? I don't know what you want me to say. I like your body, I love how soft and cuddly it is, I love to watch you eat because food makes you so happy and all I want is for you to be happy," Derek said.

They sat in silence for a second, save from the unhappy gurgling of Stiles' upper stomach that Derek's hand and came back to and was still trying to soothe.

"I didn't know you were self-conscious about it," Derek said quietly.

"I'm not self-conscious," Stiles said, realizing it was a lie. At least a little bit. Whenever anyone glanced at his rounded stomach, whether it was Scott, his dad, Derek, some random stranger, he always felt himself suck in his gut a little to try and look less round. _Especially_ when he was with Derek. He didn't look even close to what the captain of the lacrosse team should be dating. He tried not to think about it, tried to make lighthearted jokes about it and make it seem like he didn't mind the assumptions people would make about him because of his weight, but, fuck. He really was self-conscious, wasn't he?

"It's okay," Derek said quietly, snuggling closer to his side, "I'll do better. I'll always let you know how attractive and perfect I find you."

"You don't have to do that."

"You had doubts."

"Well, I guess, but that's not your fault."

"But if I can help make you feel better and realize that you're fucking sexy, I'm gonna do it."

Stiles rolled his eyes, but was smiling hugely, and rested his head on top of Derek's. He felt his relatively new t-shirt ride up with the movement, exposing an inch or two of pale belly. Derek's hand wandered back down to his lower belly that was definitely starting to rest in his lap, and gave it another teasing squeeze.

"Derek!" Stiles said indignantly.

Still cupping the plump, stretch marked belly with his hand, he began to rub the stretch marks with his thumb. It felt spectacular; they were itchy often, not that Stiles would ever admit it.

"Hm?" Derek said innocently, and Stiles was silent and glared at him, but made no move to get him off.

"You better get used to it. Now that I know you're a little insecure-"

"I am not."

"-you're gonna be getting lots of touches to your chubby bits until you realize how much I fucking love it."

Stiles made a show of sighing loudly, but fuck did he always love when Derek touched his belly. It always felt _so good_ , and he was too 'insecure' to ask for it, or whatever.

Derek hummed happily, and pushed Stiles' shirt up to his chest to expose the entire belly. Stiles flushed, and Derek moved his hand to Stiles' side, where his love handles were pushing over the waistband of his jeans. He held onto one and rubbed the roll that wrapped around Stiles' torso reverently.

Stiles whimpered in embarrassment quietly. It was true, Derek never shied away from touching him, but he never paid so much pointed attention to Stiles' 'chubby bits', as Derek so eloquently called them.

"Hush," Derek said quietly, nuzzling Stiles' chubby chin with his nose, pressing kisses into the soft underside of his jaw.

"I'm getting a double chin."

"Hm. Maybe. It's definitely softer," Derek said between kisses. Derek hand, still holding on firmly to his love handle, moved up and down a little with the intention of jiggling his belly. And boy, did it jiggle. The top of it stayed relatively stagnant, but his lower belly and love handles wobbled madly. If possible, Stiles flushed a shade deeper as he felt another wave of embarrassment. He whimpered again, louder this time. Derek hushed him by kissing him on the lips for a while, before moving his mouth down. He moved to one of Stiles' plump nipples and sucked.

Stiles suppressed a moan, and gulped. "Remember when I said I was gonna go on a diet this summer? Yeah, uh, that didn't happen," he said self deprecatingly.

"I may have noticed."

Derek was still massaging his torso and had moved his mouth to Stiles' other nipple, Stiles felt himself getting hard, fast.

"If I'm being honest, I'll, uh, probably never lose the weight," Stiles admitted for the first time out loud.

"Okay."

Derek must've noticed Stiles' growing erection and palmed at it through his jeans.

"Oh, fuck, Derek."

"Don't mind if I do," Derek said cockily as he went to unbutton Stiles' pants. Horrifyingly, he had to push Stiles' belly out of the way a bit, as it was overlapping the button and a bit of the zipper. He slid the jeans and boxers down Stiles' thick thighs and ass, noticing there were a few stretch marks beginning to form on Stiles' inner thighs.

Derek moved between Stiles' thighs and kissed the marks gently, moving his hands back up to palm at Stiles' thick belly. He moved to give attention to Stiles' erect dick that was bumping into his swollen middle a bit. Derek growled deeply, Stiles whimpered, "Please, Der," and Derek took the head of his dick into his mouth, teasing the slit with his tongue.

Stiles cried out, loud and needy, and Derek felt his own dick twitch at that. He took more of Stiles dick in his mouth until the entire length was being sucked off by Derek's incredibly talented mouth.

Stiles knew he was going to come quickly again, one of Derek's hands was playing with his balls and the other was still rubbing and caressing his stomach, and it was just too much for him to bear.

His orgasm was white hot and happened fast. Derek, _Jesus bless him_ , had swallowed Stiles' entire load. He stood up, gave Stiles' belly a loving pat (at which it wobbled a bit in response, but Stiles was in too much ecstasy to feel the hot sting of embarrassment), and went to brush his teeth, before returning to cuddle with Stiles on the couch.

"What did I do to deserve someone as incredible as you?" Stiles said breathlessly.

"Exist," Derek said quietly.

That night, Stiles actually slept at Derek's with his shirt off. It wasn't something he made a habit of in the past unless he just passed out after sex. He never really wanted Derek to look at his body any more than was strictly necessary. The look on Derek's face, that beaming smile as Stiles got into bed shirtless with him, was so worth the quick pang of doubt he experience when he made that decision.

"I love you," Derek said quietly.

Stiles felt a lump in his throat at the words. It was so soon, they had only been dating like six months, but Stiles knew he felt the same. He had never felt so confident in his life when he answered.

"I love you, too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the end of fall semester, Derek asked Stiles to move in with him, and Stiles couldn't say yes fast enough.

His dad wasn't super thrilled, "You haven't even dated him a year, Stiles," he protested. He gave in relatively quickly, though. Derek came to Beacon Hills with Stiles over Thanksgiving and his dad saw how happy they were. Stiles knew he wasn't thrilled, but he was going to let Stiles do it without arguing too much, which Stiles appreciated.

Speaking of the holidays, Stiles was participating in this little thing called 'winter weight'.

Derek bought him literally seven huge bags of Halloween candy that was on sale after the actual holiday, and he knows Stiles favorite candy is literally anything with peanuts or peanut butter, so he spent the entirety of November stuffing his chubby cheeks with _pounds_ of Halloween candy. About halfway through said month, he bought another size up in pants. He was still able to squeeze into the size he had been wearing, but he was honest with himself and knew his waistline would continue to grow as the holidays progressed.

By the time Thanksgiving had rolled around, he had about a half a bag left. They went had Thanksgiving dinner at the McCall's, like always. This year it was actually nice to have more than four people at the table, with Scott bringing Allison and Stiles bringing Derek.

Stiles managed to restrain himself a little at dinner. He was still impossibly full, but he didn't have to unbutton his pants. The new jeans were a success.

Melissa sent them home with a crap ton of leftovers. That night, as he was in Derek's bed, trying to fall asleep, all he could think about is how he didn't eat as much of Melissa's thick, greasy, _delicious_ stuffing as he really wanted to.

He glanced over at Derek who was fast asleep, and he slunk out of bed and made his way into the kitchen as quietly as his girth would allow.

He pulled out the dish that was filled with stuffing, and began to eat. He stifled the moan of pleasure that was threatening to emerge from his lips. It was just so incredible. Nothing compared to Melissa McCall's cooking, _nothing_.

He was surprised when, after a couple of minutes of shoveling stuffing down his mouth, who knows when Derek will wake up, I have to be quick, the plate was entirely empty. Stiles flushed a bit at eating that entire plate. It didn't seem like a lot in his stomach, but it had sure looked like a lot before he started eating.

Assuring himself that it must just not have been as much as it seemed, he rummaged through the fridge again and pulled out a big bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy, along with a beer to wash the stuffing down.

He took a long sip of the beer, finishing about half of it in one movement, and he started on the potatoes. Everyone loves potatoes, but Melissa's homemade gravy was the star of the show. It was so thick and dark and just fucking wonderful. 

As Stiles ate, he realized he was finally getting a little full, but how often do you get to eat Melissa's Thanksgiving dinner? Once a year, that's how often. And Stiles had squandered it because he didn't want to seem like a pig. So he kept at the mashed potatoes until his spoon hit the bottom of that bowl, too. He finished his beer with another long sip.

_Well I already have the gravy out and warm, I might as well have some turkey, too._

He grabbed another beer and ate turkey until he wasn't sure he could get up from Derek's kitchen table.

"Fuck," he said quietly, as he let out a quiet burp to give his stomach some room. He leaned to grab his beer and noticed with a cringe that his belly bumped into the table. He couldn't see his lap past his stomach, but he noticed that his chest was softer than the last time he cared to look, and the swollen pectorals rested on top of his gut a bit. He finished the rest of his beer and burped quietly again. His stomach felt ungodly tight, he groaned a little and tried to rub it like Derek does when Stiles is too full. But he couldn't do it nearly as well as Derek.

"Allow me," a quiet voice said from behind him.

"Jesus!" Stiles jumped as much as his bloated figure would allow (which was not much), and felt heat rush to his face.

Derek smirked knowingly, and pulled up a chair next to Stiles and began to rub his bare, bloated stomach.

"I don't- I mean, I didn't-"

"Shh."

Stiles glared at him. "How long have you been up?"

"Since you started the potatoes."

"Jesus, why didn't you stop me?" Stiles said, and Derek chuckled darkly.

"Why would I? You ate so little at dinner tonight, I had a feeling this might happen."

"Okay, I did not eat a _little_ at dinner, I ate enough that I was full and satisfied."

"Obviously not."

"I did too," Stiles said petulantly.

"Okay, piggy."

"Wha- HEY!"

Derek had a shit eating grin on his face as he kissed the offended look from Stiles face and wrapped his arm that wasn't rubbing Stiles' belly around his shoulder.

"I'm just teasing. You know full well how much I adore your body. And pigs are cute, remember?"

Stiles made a face at him, but leaned into his embrace all the same. Derek got up after a minute and Stiles whined loudly from missing his belly rub. Derek cackled, and Stiles gulped as he saw Derek rummage through the fridge.

He pulled out a pumpkin pie from the bakery Stiles worked at. Mrs. Dunar made one for everyone who worked there. He almost forgot it was in there. He was about to protest, but something sweet did sound really good to balance out the salty stuff he just ate.

Derek saw the conflict in Stiles' eyes, grabbed a fork, sat down next to Stiles and dug right into the pie to get a forkful. He offered it to Stiles with a mischievous look in his eyes.

"You can't- at least cut a slice so I'm not eating right out of the tin!"

Derek didn't say anything, just continued to hold the bite out expectantly. Stiles huffed and took the bite with Derek still holding the fork. Derek smiled innocently at him as he got another bite and held it out for Stiles. Still flushing and glaring, he took another bite. Derek massaged his already swollen gut with one hand, and continued feeding him with the other.

Stiles got a little lost somewhere in how fucking good the pie was, and how weirdly sensual the act of Derek feeding him while rubbing his belly was. He was so lost, in fact, that he closed his eyes and stopped really paying attention entirely. It just felt _really_ good.

Until he was snapped back to reality. With his eyes still closed, he opened his mouth again, and heard Derek go, "Uh.."

"What?" Stiles said without opening his eyes, still in bliss.

"The pie's done," Derek said gently.

"The- _what?_ " Stiles said, eyes snapping open. And sure enough, there was the empty tin, and-

Oh god.

He was so much more full than he ever had before. His stomach was tight as a drum and gurgled loudly and unhappily, despite Derek now using both hands to try and calm it. It felt so tight he was surprised it hadn't split open. Stiles winced in pain, and Derek looked concerned.

"We should get you back to bed," Derek said, still trying to calm his stomach.

Stiles was talking short, shallow breaths, and said, "I absolutely cannot get up right now."

Derek looked him up and down while worrying his lip, and said, "Okay, okay, don't move, I got you."

Derek hooked one arm under Stiles legs and the other wrapped around his back. When Stiles realized he was going to try to carry Stiles to bed, Stiles said, "Oh god, Derek, don't! You're gonna hurt yourself!" Stiles couldn't move much to protest, and he didn't know how much he weighed, but he knew it was a lot more than the last time Derek had carried him. Which was on their first night.

But Derek lifted him so smoothly, obviously taking care to not jostle his belly. Derek's face seemed calm, but Stiles could see the strain in his arms and cringed. Derek brought him to the bedroom and laid him down gently on the bed, and propped him up with some pillows so he would be more comfortable.

His stomach was still making horrible sounds and he still wasn't convinced that he wasn't going to explode. Derek climbed onto the bed, being careful to not move it around too much. He cuddled up to Stiles' side and resumed rubbing his distended gut gently.

"I'm sorry," Derek said quietly.

"Hm? Why?" Stiles said, still in pain but half asleep from being full and Derek's belly rub.

Derek flushed and said, "Well, I just- I didn't mean for you to get this full or anything, I didn't think you'd eat the whole, thing, I just-"

"Der, it's okay. It was- " _Incredible? Blissful? Orgasmic?_ "Nice."

Derek smiled, visibly relived. "Okay," he said.

And Stiles drifted off into a blissful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Then came Christmas, and, well. As one might expect, Stiles ate copious amounts of every sweet under the sun. And when time came for Christmas dinner, Stiles learned his lesson from Thanksgiving. He ate his fill at the table, even if it was a little embarrassing to have to constantly pull his sweater down so it wouldn't reveal his bloated, pale tummy. He had just gotten the sweater in October, too.

So this leads to where Stiles stood now, in _their_ apartment, mid January, just come back from work (where he may or may not have snacked all day). Derek was still in class and Stiles was peeling his jeans off. He had to lay down on the bed to get them buttoned that morning. He stripped off his skin tight white t-shirt as well.

He glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror.

He definitely had a double chin now. It was undeniable. His arms were soft, and a bit of his upper arm pudge spilled over and overlapped his elbow. This thighs were fat and jiggled with every movement. His ass was full and dimpled. He was getting _wide_. Even out of his jeans, his thick love handles spilled over his boxers. The ring of fat that was his love handles was growing incredibly quickly. If he was sitting in a chair with narrow arms, they'd bump and push into them. Some desks at school were getting too close for comfort. His belly was getting close to sandwiching him in. Stiles wasn't sure how much longer he'd go before his stomach would push against the desks at all times. His belly sagged low, and covered the entirety of his pants button and about half the zipper while standing. When he sat, it was very much sitting in his lap. His body had quite a few stretch marks, some old and silver, some new and bright pink. They were concentrated mostly on his love handles and his hanging, plump belly.

He picked up his too small jeans off the floor and checked the tag. _38\. Fuck me, I'm in the 40s._

He glanced hesitantly at Derek's scale. He hadn't weighed himself once within the past year and a half for fear of what he might find. But for the most part, he was fine with his body. He got a little embarrassed sometimes still, but Derek was always there to make him feel loved at any size.

It was time to bite the bullet.

Stiles walked to the scale, seeing his bare belly jiggling in the mirror. He had a physical the summer before he went to college, and he remembered his weight was 152. He stepped onto the scale, heart race increasing as he realized he had to lean forward past his belly to see the screen. The numbers danced red on the little screen, calculating before it settled on an alarming 258.

"Holy shit," he said shakily. He gulped, and the number flicked up one to 259.

"Oh, fuck you," Stiles huffed, still too stunned to move.

"How's in going in here?"

"Holy- seriously, dude? How do you _do_ that?"

Derek stood smirking, leaned across the door frame with his bulging, muscular arms crossed. He slowly sauntered across the bathroom floor and Stiles heart rate picked up again.

Derek approached Stiles from behind and rubbed his love handles gently. He looked over Stiles' shoulder at the number, still cruelly glaring up at Stiles, and hummed pensively.

"I-I gained 100 pounds in a year," Stiles said quietly.

Derek's hands stroked Stiles' wide hips. "You weighed 160 pounds before college?"

"Don't round up!" Stiles said, before more quietly saying, "I weighed 152."

"Wow, you must've been a skinny little thing," Derek said, moving his hands to wobble Stiles belly, and Stiles just glared at him, and sighed dramatically.

"It's also been about a year and a half, not a year," Derek added.

"What difference does it make?"

"Well, 100 pounds in a year and a half is like six pounds a month. That's not really _too_ much."

"Okay, Mr. Engineering Student, but here we are, a year and a half later and it certainly looks like a lot," Stiles said, looking down at his bulging belly.

One of Derek's hands was rubbing underneath the overhang of his gut, and the other was holding a love handle, which, Stiles noticed with a start, was looking like it would soon be getting too big for Derek to hold completely with one hand.

"It's okay, you know," Derek said.

Stiles nodded and quietly said, "What if I...wanted to cut back a little?"

Derek looked up to meet Stiles' eyes. "I'll support you in anything you want to do. You can come to the gym with me if you want, we'll make healthy dinners-"

"That sounds _awful_."

Derek laughed heartily. "We don't have to. I want to do what would make you happy. And if you want to diet, I'll support you. But if you don't want to, I'll support that, too," Derek said, giving his belly a couple of reassuring pats, watching it wobble from the movement. He rested his hand on the top of Stiles' belly.

"Slow day at work?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Stiles asked, surprised. They were usually busy around this time of year.

Derek smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. He pressed harder to the top of Stiles' belly, where it was still hard from all the snacks he had at work.

"You're full."

Stiles flushed and gave a loud groan. "Oh, how on earth would I uphold a diet in that place? Nope, can't do it. I'm not dieting."

Derek smiled indulgently at him. "Well, since you apparently ate all day at work, I'm sure you won't want any of the pizza I'm about to order?"

Stiles looked at his flabby stomach and back at Derek smiling. "Nah, I could eat."

Stiles bought a new pair of jeans the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for helping make my first fic on AO3 so much fun! Don't forget to comment and kudos if you enjoyed! :)
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


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